Summer Secrets at the Apple Blossom Deli

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘Good for you,’ he tells her with a chuckle.

  ‘Well, I definitely have room for two at my place,’ he says. ‘And I still need someone to look after Kitty – although, she’s not old enough to eat chicken nuggets yet, mate.’

  ‘Can we live with Alfie, Mum?’ Frankie begs.

  ‘Thank you,’ I tell Alfie. ‘If we could stay until the cottage is sorted.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ he replies. ‘Maybe I’ll convince you to stay a bit longer.’

  I smile.

  ‘I can’t believe everyone came out to help,’ I say, blown away by the support. ‘No one thought I’d faked the kidnap of my child for sympathy then?’

  ‘I told you, people were impressed you said you’d stock my products,’ he tells me with a laugh. ‘You just needed to prove that you loved the town, so that the town could love you back. The Apple Blossom girl did a good thing and people saw that.’

  We hold eye contact again. That long, lingering eye contact I’ve gotten so used to sharing with him. It’s so calm, yet so full of possibilities, and when I have his attention like this, my breathing always quickens.

  ‘Let’s leave these two alone for a second,’ Viv suggests. ‘They can figure out who is going to sleep where and we can go and make sure Kitty is OK.’

  ‘OK,’ Frankie replies, holding onto the word a little longer than usual, in an almost knowing way.

  Once it’s just the two of us, I shift up a little to give Alfie more space, but he follows me.

  ‘So, you’re staying,’ he says.

  ‘I am,’ I reply.

  ‘And you’re going to move in with me.’

  ‘For now,’ I laugh.

  ‘You’ve tried my shower, right? No one leaves that shower.’

  ‘That is true, you do have a good shower.’

  ‘And my bed,’ he says, running a hand up the side of my face and into my hair where he holds the back of my head. ‘My bed is pretty good, right?’

  ‘It’s a pretty good bed,’ I tell him coyly. ‘I’ll give it another go.’

  Alfie pulls me close and kisses me.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispers. ‘I think I’ve loved you since the second I laid eyes on you. Or maybe since the second time I laid eyes on you. The first time you were surrounded by cow crap and very angry.’

  I laugh and I feel a tear escape one of my eyes, which Alfie quickly wipes away.

  ‘I love you too,’ I tell him. ‘Always have. But, listen, it’s not an easy job, taking on someone else’s kid, you have to be sure.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he says, thinking carefully for a moment. ‘But so long as you promise to be a good mum to my dog, cat, alpaca, ducks – and Phillip, of course, he’s a handful – then I think we might just be able to make it work.’

  Alfie not even thinking twice about the fact that I come with Frankie tells me everything I need to know about him. He’s a good man and staying here with him is absolutely the right thing to do.

  Chapter 37

  Ding.

  I’m not sure why I opted to have a bell fitted on the deli door. I suppose it was in case a customer came in while I was in the back room.

  I don’t think I’d anticipated just how much custom we’d be getting, and while the constant noise could be viewed as annoying by some, to me it serves as a victory bell, a little chime of success. That I’m not sure I’ll ever get bored of hearing.

  ‘All of our cream cakes are one of your five a day,’ Biagio assures a couple of middle-aged lady customers. They laugh giddily, immediately won over by his outgoing, Italian charms, but it’s been two months since the deli opened, and Biagio only has eyes for Viv.

  I look over at my mum, sitting at a table, sipping a cup of tea, smiling wildly as she watches her man in action. I’ve always thought of my mum as being an optimistic, happy person, but now that I think about it, maybe we all put on a happy face for our kids from time to time, and I’m not sure that’s something we mums will ever stop doing – nor do I think we ever should. But it’s only now, seeing how she is around Biagio, that I realise just how truly happy she is with him, and it’s a side of her I’ve never seen, not with any of her boyfriends (or the occasional one of mine). She looks – if possible – even younger and healthier and it makes my heart want to burst. My mum always has been, and always will be, the most important woman in my life, and her happiness means everything to me.

  ‘Wow, what are those?’ I ask Channy as she carries in a plate of delicious looking somethings.

  ‘I was mucking around with a coconut macaroon recipe,’ she explains. ‘These are chocolate orange ones – I dunno, I just liked the idea. Try one?’

  ‘I’ve never turned down chocolate,’ I laugh, but this is Channy’s first week with Biagio training her in the kitchen, so I’m yet to try anything she’s made yet.

  ‘Oh my gosh, they’re amazing,’ I admit.

  ‘Yeah?’ she replies, with a hopeful humbleness. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ I tell her. ‘Ask the others, I’m sure they’ll agree. Maybe see if a few customers want to sample them. If they’re good, we could sell them.’

  ‘Chanaroons,’ she says excitedly, trying the name out for size. ‘Maybe this is my thing?’

  ‘Maybe it is,’ I reply. After all, this is exactly what happened to me. I was at a crossroads in my life, I wound up at the deli and, for some reason, it just felt right. I knew that this was my calling, and while it might not be as impressive as raising elephants, or as worthy as teaching kids English, it makes me happy and allows me to take care of my son, and I like to think that’s a worthy cause too.

  Speaking of Nathan, I received a postcard from him yesterday – the first time we’ve heard from him since he took off again. This time, I didn’t hide it away in a panic, shoving it at the back of a wardrobe or stuffing it in the secret pocket of my handbag, I simply read his note, which boasted all the warmth of a newsletter, before placing it down on the sideboard by the front door. I told Frankie it was there, and that he can read it when and if he chooses. I won’t ever stop him having a relationship with his dad, but it will be on Frankie’s terms if he does.

  Right on cue, Frankie comes charging through the door, throwing his arms around my leg as I clear tables.

  ‘Mum, can I go to Bart’s house for tea tomorrow?’

  ‘Tea?’ I laugh, amused to hear how quickly he’s picked up the local dialect. ‘Of course you can.’

  ‘That’ll give us some time alone together,’ I hear Alfie say, creeping up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

  ‘That would be nice,’ I say, leaning back into him.

  Alfie kisses my cheek affectionately.

  ‘Hey, how’s Pugsley doing?’ I ask. Alfie took him to the vet today because he’s been snoring a lot louder than usual lately.

  ‘He’s fine – just one of the joys of owning a pug,’ he laughs, before his face falls. ‘We saw Jim, instead of Charlie. I’ve been getting the feeling she’s been cold with me, since we got together…’

  It hadn’t escaped my attention that Alfie’s friendship with Charlie seemed to stop just as our relationship started.

  ‘I think everyone but you knew that she was trying to pull you,’ Channy says. I didn’t realise she was listening in, and I shoot her a glance to try and halt her honesty.

  Alfie rubs his chin.

  ‘She wasn’t a real friend then, was she?’ he reasons. ‘So that’s no loss.’

  I smile.

  ‘I’m just glad you’re OK, and that Pugsley is OK.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s fine,’ he says, hugging me again. ‘We just might need to get some ear plugs.’

  ‘With an 8-year-old, a zoo of animals and a multitude of weird gadgets, a snoring dog is the least of our worries,’ I laugh. ‘It’s a madhouse, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s exactly what I want,’ he replies, kissing me on the cheek. ‘How about I take Frankie home and make a start on tea?’

  ‘God, you’re amazing,�
�� I blurt.

  ‘I feel like a housewife,’ he laughs. ‘What would my dad say?’

  ‘He’d be proud of you,’ I insist. ‘How could he not be?’

  Alfie kisses me again.

  ‘Love you,’ he says.

  ‘Love you too,’ I reply.

  ‘Come on, kiddo,’ Alfie calls. Frankie, who was chatting with Viv, charges over to him.

  ‘Bye, Mum.’

  ‘Bye,’ I call after him.

  I feel so completely comfortable with Alfie looking after Frankie. They make such a cute double act and seem to really love spending time together. We feel like a proper little family – something I’d never really felt before. Living here, with my son, my amazing boyfriend, our pets, and with my loved-up mum nearby, doing a job that I love, with no secrets hanging over me…I finally feel like I have it all.

  My mum was right when she told me: when you know, you know. I know that here is my home now. I might not be travelling the world, living out of a suitcase, planting trees and feeding elephants, but life here is an adventure all of its own, and I can’t wait to see what it has in store for me next.

  Acknowledgements

  To be writing my acknowledgements for my ninth book feels unreal. I feel so lucky to be doing what I do, and without my incredible team and my wonderful readers, none of this would be possible.

  A massive thank you to my fantastic editor, Nia, who is truly brilliant at what she does and a joy to work with. I feel so lucky to be working with Nia and the rest of the HQ team who bring my books to life.

  Without my readers and those who take the time to review my books, I wouldn’t be writing this now, so thank you so much to everyone who has supported me over the years.

  The biggest thank you of all goes to my amazing family, for their continued support. My parents – especially my mum, my brothers, my gran and my dogs. And then there’s my boyfriend, who keeps my world turning. Without him, everything would be so much harder. Thank you all.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading Summer Secrets at the Apple Blossom Deli – I really hope you enjoyed it.

  I grew up in a small village, not unlike Marram Bay, and I really wanted to give you a feel of what life is like in a small community where everyone knows everyone’s everything, or give you something to relate to if you grew up in a small community too.

  The fact that you just read my ninth book is something that blows me away every time I think about it. Without you, my wonderful readers, this wouldn’t be possible.

  Thank you again for taking the time to read Summer Secrets at the Apple Blossom Deli. If you would like to leave a review on Amazon, iBooks, etc. I would love to hear your thoughts.

  If you want a chat, you can reach out to me on social media. I’m @PortiaMacIntosh on Twitter, Portia MacIntosh on Facebook, and @PortiaMacIntoshAuthor on Instagram.

  Remember, I have another book coming out later this year that will also be set in Marram Bay, and you can always find my other books on Amazon.

  Thanks,

  Portia x

  Read on for a sneak peek at It’s Not You, It’s Them

  Prologue

  When I met my boyfriend one year ago, I couldn’t believe my luck.

  You’re probably not going to believe me when I tell you this, but the way we met was like a fairy tale.

  I was covering an event for work: a big, fancy-dress ball hosted by a children’s charity. I’m not much of a comic-book nerd, but the second I saw Margot Robbie dressed as Harley Quinn in the Suicide Squad movie, I knew that was who I wanted to dress up as. I pulled my long, blonde hair into pigtails before temporarily spraying the ends blue on one side, pink on the other. I watched hours of make-up tutorials so that my face was just right and then I slipped on a tight-fitting T-shirt, some hot pants and some Converse and was ready to go. I grabbed my baseball bat, brandishing it at myself in the mirror as I got ready to leave the flat, just as my flatmate Gil walked by me.

  ‘You’re showing your arse at a children’s charity ball?’ he said, laughing.

  ‘There won’t actually be any children there,’ I replied casually, making a pouty face as I snapped a photo in the mirror. But as I headed to the ball, I did worry that maybe Gil was right. Funny really, considering what a hot mess he is for a forty-something man. That’s actors for you, though.

  Thankfully, when I arrived, there wasn’t a minor in sight – unless you count a guy I recognised from Game of Thrones who had, bizarrely, turned up dressed as a baby. The huge ballroom was packed with celebrities, journalists and people who worked for the charity… and then there was Mark. Mark Wright, head of PR for the charity, was the brain behind this fundraising ball, and very much the man of the hour. People were crowding around him – mostly women, I couldn’t help but notice – just to talk to him, get a quote from him, buy him a drink – or just anything, really, that would capture his attention for a few seconds.

  Amid the chaos, our eyes met across a crowded room – I know, that old one – but they did. My body not having quite the same proportions as Margot’s, I was just starting to feel self-conscious in my hot pants, awkwardly pulling at them – like that was going to make them any longer – when I spotted Mark, sitting at the bar, facing out into the room, people all around him, trying to get a piece of him. He was dressed as The Joker (Heath Ledger’s portrayal, not Jared Leto’s – but that’s not important) so I smiled at him. His reaction was to applaud me, tilting his head down a little and narrowing his eyes, perfectly replicating Heath’s sarcastic clap in The Dark Knight, before turning his attention back to his audience.

  Despite Mark’s temporarily messy green hair, that ghostly white face, black eyes and red, twisted smile, I could tell he was gorgeous. I don’t even think it was the usual characteristics that attracted me to him physically; it was the fact he had a smile on his face every time I looked at him (a real one, not the one painted on so he could tell everyone to ask him ‘how he got those scars’). He had kind eyes and, when he gave people his attention, I saw them light up – that’s Mark, though. With his good looks, charm and kind nature, he makes you feel like the most important person in the world when he talks to you.

  Twenty seconds of attention from him and I was smitten, so I spent the rest of the night subtly following this unconventional Prince Charming around the ball, just trying to find a way to get his attention, but feeling like an unworthy Cinderella and chickening out.

  Growing up around theatre folk, I’d always liked the idea of having a gay bestie. Someone I could have awesome girly nights with and who could give me amazing advice whenever I needed it. Instead, I wound up with Gil, the most alpha-male gay guy I have ever met – and he’s pretty shocking at advice, too. We were texting all night, and as he was getting progressively drunker, his advice was getting progressively worse. As I anxiously shovelled cake into my mouth I received a message from him saying he’d lost his keys and that he was going to climb the fire escape to get into our flat. When Gil drinks he loses control of his senses and his actions (and totally forgets his lack of athleticism) – one time he even lost half of his little finger, so I know that if he says he’s going to try and scale a building, he’s definitely going to do it. I pulled my shorts down one last time before deciding to call it a night – at just 11.45. What a lightweight.

  I made my way outside the hotel, booking my Uber as I took the stairs, before heading outside into the cool air to wait for my ride. As I stood there, I felt a hand touch my arse and, before I knew what I was doing, I spun around and struck my attacker with my baseball bat.

  ‘Hey, hey, calm down,’ Mark said reassuringly, his Yorkshire accent instantly soothing me. He took my bat from me and placed it on the wall next to us – I imagine just in case I tried to strike him again. ‘You just… you’ve got some frosting on your shorts.’

  ‘Sorry, I thought you were a pervert,’ I babbled.

  Mark laughed as he rubbed his arm.

  ‘I think you
broke my arm,’ he teased.

  Convinced I’d blown my chance to seem cool in front of him, I gave up trying and let who I really was take over.

  ‘Are you kidding me? I think your arm broke my bat,’ I joked as I nodded towards his bicep.

  That first night when I met Mark, I took two things from his appearance: first of all, I knew he must have a great sense of humour, because rather than opting for the usual Joker costume of a green and purple suit, he decided on the female nurse outfit from The Dark Knight. The other thing I could tell was just how sexy his body was – yes, even in a dress.

  ‘I’m Mark,’ he told me, offering me a hand to shake. ‘I’ve seen you around all night. Do you work for us? Are you in a girl band?’ he joked.

  ‘I’m Roxie,’ I replied, shaking his hand. ‘I’m a journalist.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he teased.

  Typically, just as I’d finally got Mark’s full attention, my taxi pulled up.

  ‘Well, it was nice to meet you,’ I told him as I opened the car door.

  ‘You’re going?’ he asked, a look of genuine disappointment on his face. ‘It’s only five to twelve.’

  ‘I know, but I have to go,’ I told him, images of Gil lying on the pavement outside our flat with a couple of compound fractures invading my thoughts.

  ‘Does your Uber turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?’ he asked with a cheeky laugh.

  My God, I wanted to stay with him. Every second of my Uber home I wished I had, and then when I arrived home and found Gil fast asleep in bed, having found his keys in his pocket, I metaphorically kicked myself to sleep.

  The next day at work I was just sitting at my desk, thinking about what I could’ve said or done differently, when one of the receptionists came running up.

  ‘There’s a man in reception saying he wants a word with you,’ she informed me.

  ‘Whatever I’m supposed to have done, it wasn’t me,’ I lied instinctively as she literally dragged me to the reception. Mark was waiting for me there.